


Snowdrop

by generalasshattery



Category: Mortal Kombat - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst and Romance, BDSM, F/M, Past Domestic Violence, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:41:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23479387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/generalasshattery/pseuds/generalasshattery
Summary: He hadn't lived there long, but already you'd taken a liking to your grim neighbor. You had suspected he was dangerous, but hadn't really understood what that meant until tonight.
Relationships: Bi-Han/Reader, Bi-Han/You
Comments: 3
Kudos: 56





	1. Another Grim Night

**Author's Note:**

> This story does contain mentions of Domestic Violence and implication of PTSD and triggers. Please skip this if that is troubling to you.

It was the sort of night you usually loved, though you doubted you’d ever find it comforting again. The rain was coming down harder than it had in months, the proper type of storm that was perfect for laying in bed inside your home, safe. No one wanted to be out in this, least of all you. You were sitting in the passenger seat of your car, in the parking lot of your apartments, having watched your life crumble before you not an hour before. It felt longer than that, it felt like you’d been sitting there and waiting for several.

The bruise on your cheek had just begun to swell, and that familiar pain of mistreatment you knew too well throbbed on neck from where he’d wrapped his hands. But he didn’t get to do much this time, though you’re not certain if saying you’d been saved was accurate. The stress alone of what you knew was going on in your apartment had driven you back to smoking, and with the window cracked down, despite the rain dripping into the car, you indulged in a habit only slightly less dangerous than the one you’d shared with a man that might be dead now.

Bi-han had interrupted things, the two of you had gotten close due to your status as neighbors and similarly bleak and cynical dispositions. He had been the source of the fight, as he had inspired so much jealousy in your boyfriend. The man of ice had told you to leave, to go to the car and wait for him, which is why you were sitting out on such a dismal night trying your best to stay calm. The wait time came to a quick end though when you saw Bi-han leaving the apartment complex and cross the parking lot. He was soaking wet by the time he sat in the driver’s seat of your car. There was a pause that only lasted a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity of silence of staring at each other before you finally spoke.

“Is he dead?” You asked it while exhaling some smoke. He held out his hand, and it took you a moment to realize he was asking for the keys. You had to fish in your purse to find them, while you were looking he addressed you.

“What do you want me to say?” He asked with a tilt of his head. There was no subtle accusation of weakness in the question, which is what you’d expected from the harsh man. You’d figured he’d have more than a little condescension for you, but no, he spoke with an honest curiosity. Like he was trying to suss out what sort of person you were. You blinked at him, left speechless by the question, and glanced down at his hand. The water droplets from the rain had crystallized into a dusting of frost, and you had the strangest urge to brush it off for him.

“Do you want me to say no? That I roughed him up and sent him on his way, scared him so much he swore to never speak to you?” You still didn’t know how to respond, but you knew that wasn’t true. And you supposed that was the point, did you want to live with an obvious lie to alleviate the guilt you were going to inevitably feel? As much as you hated your boyfriend, you’d loved him too. For all his cruelty and all the ways he hurt you, he’d brought so much joy. There had always been more good times than bad, even if they were no longer worth the suffering.

“Or are you hoping I’ll say yes. That I’ll tell you he went to his death screaming and crying, in pain and begging for mercy? What do you want to hear?” Still there was no accusation, no implication of who you were. It didn’t seem like he’d blame you for wanting the revenge, or for the ease of guilt off your conscience either way. The truth was though, and it made your heart hurt so very deeply, is that you didn’t want to hear either. You’d held it together so well all night, but finally the tears rolled silently down your cheeks. It had finally sank in, the man you loved despite all his failures was dead.

“The truth,” you finally said, and he actually looked impressed with you. He slid the keys into the ignition and started the car, but didn’t shift into gear. Instead he turned to face you completely before speaking again.

“The truth is he was dead before you got to the elevator. He didn’t suffer. It was quick, clean, and as painless as death can be. The clean up took considerably more time.” It was a fact he reported, he had no emotional investment in it and you realized that this wasn’t a thing he’d never done before. It made your hands shake between drags on the cigarette to realize you were sitting next to an expert on the subject.

“How much do I owe you?” You said it like you were cracking a joke, a smile on your face while tears rolled down your cheeks. Like saying it in jest could some how disguise what you were asking. What you were asking was him to refute your suspicions, or confirm them. You’d already told him you wanted honesty.

“You couldn’t afford it,” he said with a side long glance to you and finally moved the car out of park and pulled out of the lot. Your heart almost stopped in your chest, and the cigarette slipped out of your fingers when you went to dust the ash out the window. It was lost in the rain.

“But if you want to thank me, you can buy me a couple of drinks.”

\----------------------------------

The bar was the sort of shitty little joint that stayed open due only to the dedicated regulars that came to drink in a spot where no one would bother them. For a night like this, with bruises darkening your cheek and neck, with your mascara running so far down that it was in danger of dripping off your jaw, it was the only place you’d want to be seen. The waitress didn’t even give you a second glance when you ordered, most likely no more than another sad face in a place that catered to them.

The initial shock, the fear, the pure and inescapable misery had slipped behind a wall of numbness. All those emotions you could feel tugging at your conscience, begging for attention, but unable to penetrate through the thick fog in your brain. You hadn’t looked at him since you realized what he was, not really, and most definitely not in the face. Even now, sitting directly across from Bi-han you could stare only at the stiff drink you’d ordered but had yet to taste.

“Are you afraid of me now?” He asked breaking the long period of silence that had stretched for almost half an hour. You finally looked up, and squinted at him considering his attractive face and cold demeanor you’d found charming before, but now seemed so dangerous.

“A little,” you said it and finally picked up your glass for a drink. It burned all the way down, especially on your already pained neck. That was fine, it felt nice to feel a little through all the numb.

“You’re smart for that,” he replied, that intense gaze fixed on yours. You didn’t hold it though, instead you looked down at the table and watched your fingers rub along the grain. He was most definitely the judgmental sort, and hearing him praise you for anything, especially after the humiliating night you had felt odd. You knew it was coming, that harsh tone he wielded so often, when he chastised you for staying with your now former boyfriend for so long. It was a small miracle that he hadn’t dropped it on you already.

“Am I going to get a lecture from you?” You decided to prompt it. Normally that sort of conversation prompted a fight, one of which you could storm away from to avoid dealing with your situation a little longer. You weren’t sure running out on paying the tab for a career killer was something you wanted to do.

“A lecture?” You looked up to see his brow furrow, he legitimately didn’t know what you were referring to.

“You know, that same lecture everyone wants to give out about this shit. About taking responsibility and leaving. About how I need to respect myself more so I don’t fall for it again.” You didn’t bother keeping the bitterness out of your voice over all those people who claimed to care, but didn’t want to try to understand. That wanted it to be your fault because if it was your fault, it could never happen to them. It reaffirmed their sense of safety and their imagined moral superiority for having never been emotionally manipulated and beaten. The anger of all the memories of that condescending speech told to you so many times was enough to inspire a glare at him, silently daring him to deliver it to you. He didn’t look much moved though, in fact he rolled his eyes at you.

“I don’t care enough,” he said and tilted back his glass to finish off the drink, and you knew you were going to be buying him a second one. He did have you by the figurative balls here. For some reason that casual dismissal hit your heart in a painful way, and that misery the numbness had kept away started to creep back in. What did you expect though?

“At least you’re honest,” you replied but sounded much less bitter. No, the tone of your voice was defeat.

“Don’t be like that. What I meant is that I’m not going to sit here and blame you for the shitty things someone did to you. I don’t care about him, or what happened because it is very fucking much done. You want to feel bad? Then feel bad. I can’t stop you.” He was calm but you saw the muscle in his jaw tense up, he was clenching his teeth. You had far too much experience in looking for the little signs that someone was upset, and you could spot them far more easily then most. But he was in control of himself, that much you knew. It should’ve scared you more that he had so much of it and he was capable of what he’d done not long before. Instead it made you feel strangely comfortable.

“But you care?” It was halfway between a statement and a question. His jaw relaxed and you could swear his eyes softened, if only just a little. He nudged your glass towards you, encouraging you to take another drink, which you did.

“You think I’m giving a freebie out to anyone else? Like I’m some avenger of the fucking innocent using my talents to rid the world of evil? No, brat, that was just for you.”


	2. The Day After

“I’m doing fine, thank you for asking.” He hadn’t asked, in fact he hadn’t said anything since you pushed past him to get into his apartment. It was was getting dangerously close to being the 24 hour mark, and though the past day since he’d taken you back to your apartment had been the most stressful of your life, you were getting more agitated as the minutes ticked down to the time the fight started that ultimately ended a man’s life. The memory of the time flashing on the microwave as your “ex’s” voice started to rise had made even standing in your kitchen uncomfortable. With a sleepless night behind you, and that anxious pain in your chest growing you knew you needed to leave. That was why at almost midnight you’d banged on Bi-han’s door until he answered, and for the second night in a row, you’d woken him up.

“No you’re not,” he said flatly, still rubbing his eyes to try to bring some life back to them. He was wearing black sweat pants that sat low on his hips and nothing else. A view you’d enjoyed a few times in the past, but currently you were too upset to enjoy it. You positioned your back away from his clock, arms crossed over your chest like you were shielding it from something. It didn’t help though, the tightness was still there, the agitated urge to do something was growing more difficult to resist by the moment. You wanted to scream or cry, maybe break something. So you drew in a deep breath, trying to fill your lungs enough to remove some of the tension. It worked just enough to let you settle on a passive aggressive response instead of the other options.

“Oh, and why ever would that be?” He lifted his eyebrows at the sass in your response, but he didn’t seem irritated with you. He actually had the audacity to smile at you, though in your irritation with that response you mistook it for a smirk. Your chest inflated again, ready to release a stream of expletives that would inevitably lead to an ugly meltdown, though you couldn’t see that far in the future. He could though, and he shifted his tone to something softer when he cut you off before you could detonate on him.

“You don’t have to be fine,” he said it as he moved close enough to reach so he could push some hair out of your face. His hand lingered there, holding the side of your head gently so that his thumb could run over the bag under your eye. His cold touch was such a lovely comfort, just enough of a distraction to pull yourself out of your own mind and let you breath normally for a moment. You couldn’t resist moving a little closer, even though he was cold enough to raise the goosebumps on your skin.

“Do you want to stay with me?” He asked quietly, close enough you could feel his breath. You did, you wanted to be out of the apartment that you’d been pacing around for an entire day obsessively examining for any sign of what had happened before. You’d overturned your couch, crawled on your hands and knees looking for anything, flecks of blood, a tooth lost during the violence, anything. There had been nothing, in fact there were places that were now cleaner than they’d ever been, and that was how you knew where something had happened. It was hard not to linger in those places.

“Yes,” you said and after a long pause added begrudgingly “thank you.” His hand slid around your waist to pull you against his chest. Your breathing synced with his, and the proximity to him was enough of a wonderful distraction that some of the stress managed to leave you. He leaned down and kissed the top of your head, and you knew from the gesture that he wasn’t going to advance this any further physically. You suddenly felt something you hadn’t felt in a long time. You felt safe.


	3. A New Normal

There was something on your mind, that much was clear. It had been almost a month since you shoved your way into his apartment and you hadn’t left since. You’d started going back to work, but that was the extent that you’d venture out without him. It would be easy to draw the loyal dog comparison, but you were so snarky while putting on a tough front that a yappy little ankle biter would’ve been more accurate. Not that he minded that, in fact he rather enjoyed your bluster. At first you’d ask, ask for one more night before you went back home, then one day you tested it. Pretended you forgot to ask and watched him cautiously all day to see if he’d comment. He had pretended not to notice. You weren’t so lacking in subtlety that it would’ve been obvious to anyone else, but despite the short length of your time together, he knew you extremely well.

It had been mostly out of boredom at first, he’d known instantly that he was going to enjoy you. You always had some bleak comment or grim joke for every occasion, he’d thought at first you saw the world as he did. It didn’t take long to realize while many of your professed ideals lined with his, your actual ideals were far less harsh. For a person who said the world is awful, you spent much of your time worrying over the well-being of others, even (or especially) people that didn’t deserve it. You’d taken to talking cruelly about your former boyfriend, your way to cope, but he remembered all the times you’d come to his home, worried, because the man had made a dark threat against himself. You claimed to be relieved he was gone, but the fact you spent so much time talking him out of killing himself that it was unlikely you truly were. That was a thought he kept to himself though, letting you process this on your own terms was for the best.

You were someone that had the whole world convinced you were tough and unfeeling, but the truth was you were fragile. He’s not certain exactly why, but that had drawn him to you. He had some theories on why that was, but nothing he was willing to explore. It didn’t matter why anyway, he enjoyed you, which could have been a very real problem for him. It was a problem for him. You sitting there looking agitated because there was something on your mind was a problem. You were a powder keg of emotions ready to blow up in a moment, but he needed you to be calm enough to deal with the dead man he’d killed for you.

He shouldn’t have done it, not for any moral reasons, but strictly out of functional ones. He was on a mission, and this drew attention. You had already been an issue before this even happened. He’d known long before it happened he was going to have to make a decision, he’d known either you or your ex was going to die. He’d heard the threats every time you wanted to leave from behind the thin walls of your apartment, and he knew they were meant with cruel sincerity. It was the most peculiar way he had ever held another’s life in his hands, indirectly, and through potential inaction.

He’d originally resolved to deal with it like a last loose end before he left. Handle your boyfriend before he left town, that would’ve been ideal, really. Then he wouldn’t be in this situation of trying to keep you stable and capable. He was going to abandon the plan though, before he the boyfriend even forced the issue. Listening to the fights and seeing your wounded body was making concentrating on the mission hard. It would’ve been better to do it while you were away though, have a nice note waiting for you that he’d left you and was gone forever. Best laid plans and all that.

“You know,” you started with that tone you used when you wanted it clear you had opinions to share. He’d been ignoring you this whole time he was working out, he was mid crunch when you finally decided to interrupt.

“Are we ever going to talk about things?” Your arms were crossed over your chest, and your legs were crossed in an almost aggressive way from where you sat on the couch. Not to mention that scowl you wore quite often, every time he saw it, it made him want to grin at you. Sometimes he almost did, if only because he knew it’d get a rise. He didn’t deliberately provoke you though, nor would he ever. Though there’s been no verbal confirmation you had silently agreed to many things by staying with him, and violating the trust that came with that was something he wouldn’t do. He’d already decided you were his, as long as you were willing to be.

“What things?” He asked, with the way your brain worked, how quickly thoughts seemed to circle your brain and how little control you had over them made it impossible to determine what you were specifically obsessing over.

“Like that you’re a hitman,” you said it so matter of fact that it made him stop his crunches to raise his eyebrows at you. This was a conversation he did not want to have, but if you wanted to discuss it he’d be honest with what he could, which would be almost nothing.

“Not exactly,” he finally responded and went back to the crunches.

“Do you prefer the word assassin?” It was a snarky question, but not antagonistic. You weren’t trying to pick a fight, you were gathering information. You’d learned quickly he wouldn’t be baited into arguments the way anyone else in your life was. That you could say your feelings, express your anger and receive an even response. He wasn’t sure if it was because you found that soothing, or because you saw no point in it, but you’d become much less aggressive quite quickly.

“I take whatever tasked I’m assigned. Sometimes that’s taking out a target, sometimes it’s stealing something, kidnapping, intimidation…” he trailed off, making it clear that there was more things he could add on.

“I get the fucking point,” you said, still sounding more snarky than irritated. You had a crass way of talking, sometimes with more swears than regular words. Another way you tried to show the world you didn’t care.

“And?” He asked as he laid back after his last set of crunches and then rubbed a hand over his face. It was still early in the morning, early enough that you being so awake meant you’d been stewing on this since you woke up. So he wasn’t going to let you derail, otherwise you’d be sighing and glaring all day long.

“And what?” You were watching him closely, and not just in that way you usually did while he was working out. It was no mystery to him that you always managed to be in the room when he was shirtless and exercising, but things had not yet become physical. That was intentional. He had no interest in taking advantage of you in a poor state. If he was going to fuck you it would be because you wanted it, and not just a distraction. Besides there were things you had to agree to first.

“I know you didn’t start this conversation to clarify my job title,” he said as he rose to his feet and used a towel to wipe the sweat off his brow. You were silent for a moment and when he finally looked over at you, you were nibbling on your lip. You were thinking so hard about what to ask he was certain it was going to be something he was going to have to dissuade your interest in.

“What’s,” you started but took a second and began again, “what’s happening here? Where’s this going?” A man with more humor would’ve laughed, you were asking a killer about your relationship status with him. You hopped from one dangerous man to another, a woman with good survival instincts you were not.

“Ah,” he said after a long moment, because he wasn’t a man with more humor. He was a pragmatic realist, and while getting to keep you would’ve been extremely beneficial to him (and not only because it would allow him the best opportunity from letting you get in the way), there were plenty of concerns to be addressed.

“Ah, what?” You asked cautiously offended by the dismissive noise.

“I thought we were about to have a different conversation,” he said and he watched your face turn dark. So you’d decided not to have that discussion on your own accord, he knew sometimes he didn’t give you the proper credit for your intelligence.

“Should we be?” You knew the answer from the bitter sound in your voice.

“No, I couldn’t give you anymore answers than what I have,” a simple response as he tossed the towel to the side. He then moved to stand before you, arms matching your crossed ones and peering down on you in the couch. You shrank just slightly, enough to prove that you were still somewhat intimidated by him, and he would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy it. But what he even more was that implicit trust that had you carrying on the conversation anyway.

“That’s what I assumed,” you said and straightened back up to look like a tough girl again.

“Clever little brat,” he said and reached a hand to gently stroke the top of your hair. Something you immediately leaned into.

“Condescending jackass,” it sounded earnest, but the way you tilted into the petting undercut the words. You enjoyed these sort of moments as much as he did.

“What we’re doing here is up to you. I don’t know when I’m going to be leaving again, and when I go, you can’t come with.” His tone was even, but not unkind, he wasn’t intentionally insulting you, but… there were few people he could picture doing less well then you within the Lin Kuei.

“I don’t think I’m cut out for your life, Bi-han,” you said, and he was impressed once more just how well you understood somethings. That little statement alone meant you knew this was short term, and that you were pursuing it anyway meant you wanted to try in spite of that.

“You most definitely are not,” he said, and let his thumb draw over your cheek, “but until then, if you want to be more than we can be. I don’t think I need to explain to you why being in a relationship with me is different.” You rolled your eyes at him, and it took a lot of self control not to pin you to the couch and put some humility back into you by making you beg. He’d have you squirming for him later, though.

“Because you kill people or the dominant thing?” You asked so bluntly it made him snort, he couldn’t resist leaning down to kiss you condescendingly on the forehead. It was a little disappointing he couldn’t keep you permanently.

“The killing thing won’t impact your life further,” he said in a tone that attempted to end the conversation.

“You can’t know that,” you voice sounded suddenly small, and he had to remind himself you’ve dealt with severe trauma recently. He could keep you safe from problems on his end, that he was certain of. He had control of that, at least, about who knew about you, and what you knew. No one was going to look for the random woman he slept with while working.

“I do, but yes, “the dominant thing,”” he redirected back to a more comfortable subject. Which was in itself odd, for most people sex and all that came with it were awkward things. Things that were supposed to just happen perfectly, and no one ever need to discuss the details. He loathed that. Lucky you weren’t so prudish.

“You know, I may be a masochist but I’m not an obedient sort,” you said tilting your head to kiss his finger when he moved to grab your chin to keep your gaze on him. The mere thought of you turning into an obedient little sub was ludicrous. No, you challenged authority, and he had no doubt you enjoyed being put back into place.

“I wouldn’t be interested if you were,” it was the truth. There were many men, women, and everyone in between that were prepared to follow and obey. He didn’t want that, he wanted you.

“So what does that mean for you, and how things would work for us?” You asked, your voice dropping lower, even your pupils dilated, you were getting excited. He was too, he could feel that growing need he’d successfully suppressed for you for too long. So he leaned down to take your lips, to dominate your mouth for the briefest of moments

“That depends,” he said when he finally pulled away. Your face was flushed, lips parted like you were asking for another. Eyes wide and staring into his, he knew things would be progressing quickly from this point.

“On?”

“How much control you’re willing to part with.”


	4. A New Normal Part 2

“How much control you’re willing to part with.”

The statement had lingered for several long minutes before you’d informed him you needed a smoke before you could even think about that. He hadn’t pressed you, instead he let you excuse yourself and gave you a few moments to light the cigarette and take a deep breath of the toxic, but relaxing fumes before he followed you out and sat silently. He just watched you, watched you pace a little as the thoughts in your brain swirled thinking about the dramatic development moments before.

It was sunset, right at that time where the orange sun still managed to brighten up the world a little below the darkening violet and blue sky. It was getting chilly enough that it felt the same way it did when Bi-han entered the room. Idly you wondered if you would forever associate the cold with him. It was a pleasant association, far more than some you’d picked up with your former boyfriend. It was honestly a romantic sort of night, something that made the conversation you were about to have more absurd.

“I don’t,” you started on an exhale of smoke, “know where to begin.” It was honest, because you knew your own predilections had lead you to disaster before, chasing the fun and the danger. That craving you had for pain and humiliation mixed with you pleasure had so long caused you to pursue things you knew were doomed to fail, and you had to accept you were perhaps chasing that again. Still, in spite of your much better judgment knowing who he was and what he did, you trusted him. So you took the seat next to him, legs crossed in the seat as unladylike as ever.

“Then we can start with the unbreakable rules,” he said after a moment of watching you move to your new spot. Even when he wasn’t staring at you, he always seemed to be watching. You’d figured out he would pretend to not notice you when he was “ignoring” you but still managed to move something out of the way before you bumped into it while carrying your laundry. That was one of the small ways you’d realized he’d already had quite a bit of control before you’d even had this conversation.

“How ominous,” you responded in your snarky way, with a half smile and a flick of the cigarette to get the ash off.

“I expect you won’t behave,” he said and you let out a small laugh, “I expect you’ll take to rules like a petulant toddler. I don’t care if you break them if you don’t care about getting consequences. You can be as well or poorly behaved as you want. However…” He reached over and grabbed your chin to force you to look at him. The addition of his icy hand in the cold evening was enough to make you shiver, as did the sudden turn in his tone. He could be so very intimidating.

“There are rules that if you break them, we cannot do this. If I find you aren’t abiding them the arrangement ends.” He said it with such intensity, that it made how gentle his touch was seem all the more delicate. It still baffled you how soft he could be with hands he used to kill. He wanted your attention though, and this conversation was important so such thoughts were only serving to distract.

“Like what?” You asked, your eyebrows raised. You could only picture what rules were going to pop out of his mouth; he was a tough man to read.

“You’ll pick a safe word and you will use it every time you need it. If you aren’t certain if you need to use it, you will use it anyway.” It surprised you enough that you blinked at him. He finally let go of your chin, seemingly satisfied enough that he had you attention. You took the freedom to take another drag on your cigarette. It wasn’t that the rule itself was surprising, but it was certainly the first time anyone had told you that you had to use a safe word. A few bad experiences of being shamed for using it had led to bad decisions of letting something continue longer than it should have. It was hard to forgive yourself for letting it happen, even though your brain told you that train of thought was wrong and bad for you. Didn’t let you stop having it.

“Okay,” you said. You were looking at him a little differently than you had before, as though you had just unlocked a part of his personality you’d never known was there. You realized quickly that wasn’t true, he’d shown you this side many times. There was a dark thought lingering in your brain, that even the most violent act you knew from him had been one to protect you. For well over a month know he’d demonstrably taken measures to keep you safe and happier. It was just weird to think of him as compassionate or empathetic. Maybe he wasn’t. No he wasn’t. One couldn’t do what he did and have a deep sense of care for the world around him, but he did have it for you. It was a thought that made you feel special, but also sent off alarm bells in your brain. For now, you decided to look past the flags, after all, he wouldn’t be here forever.

“You will be open and honest about your feelings before and after a scene, and you will let me take care of you after the fact. You will not use me to self harm.” The last sentence genuinely stunned you, he had your number better than you realized.

“I….” your voice trailed off, and you had to look away for a moment, feeling the embarrassment on your cheeks. He cleared his throat intentionally, so you forced your gaze back to him and gave him the small nod you know he was looking for. He reached for you again, this time your free hands which he gave a small squeeze. He didn’t let go of it either, instead he maintained a firm grip on your hand, not so much so that it read as anything other than reassuring, but enough to feel like he was keeping you grounded during what was a much more challenging conversation than you’d expected.

“You will not interfere in or discuss what I do with anyone but me. I don’t care if you tell people everything else about staying with me, but you will never discuss what you know of my “job”. Not with anyone that claims to know me, not with anyone that claims or is clearly related to me, not if they know things about me and say they’re concerned about my safety.” His grip tightened again as if this were the part he truly expected to lose you on. Though the truth was, you’d expected this to be the first thing out of his mouth. You were anything but naive, you knew what would have to happen if you got chatty.

“Except,” he held up a finger to indicate this exclusion, “if you are threatened. Which brings me to the last unbreakable rule. You will not put yourself at risk. For purposes of sex and play, you will never engage in a scene that you feel is unsafe. For purposes of my life- you will not risk your health to spare mine. In the unlikely event you are found and someone intends to hurt you, you will tell them everything. You do not know enough to be useful to anyone- so be honest with what you do know and they’ll figure that out quickly.” That you didn’t expect though, you had assumed you would need to take all of this to your grave. It made you feel closer to him, made you want to leave the chair to claim his lap and plant kisses on his cheek. Once more he had made you feel safe, made your well-being seem a priority like it never had before. Again you knew the danger of being so enamored by this but you couldn’t resist.

“Understand?” He asked after a moment of your contemplative silence. You put out your cigarette and did exactly as you wanted, sat on his knee and kissed his cheek in a way you knew he’d read as submissive.

“Yes, I do,” you responded between a second and third kiss. You caught a smile tugging on his lips, something that was so rare, as he looped an arm around your waist to pull you close. You found yourself once again leaning into the cold, resting your head on his shoulder, and trying to ignore the trembling in your limbs.

“Good, now my rules,” he said leaning over you to rest his chin on the top of your head. For a brief moment he used his arms to rock you just a little, something you suspected he did without realizing it. It was comforting, and you wonder if on some deep level he found it to be too. Bi-han had always seemed so straightforward, but the more time you spent with him the more you realized he was much more complicated than you realize.

“So you have rules too?” You asked, sounding affectionately snarky. The intimacy with him was like with no one else, it felt more meaningful from someone who had no soft fluffy words to give anyone. Again he made you feel special, like you were one of the only people he would be close to.

“Of course I do,” he said and kissed the top of your head, “I will never touch you in anyway you do not expressly want me to. I will respect anytime you withdrawal consent, for any reason.” He leaned back in the chair, finally completely relaxing with you still on his lap. His tone even calmed considerably.

“I will never put you in harms way, be it because of my mission or otherwise,” he said and you believed he would try. That was the best you could honestly hope for in this situation, and you’d already made the decision weeks ago.

“I will respect your feelings, and I will make sure your emotional needs are met- and not just your physical ones,” he finished with his hand gently rubbing over your back. That firm but gentle touch, that little rush of cold, it was meant to be comforting but made your skin feel hot. It was getting harder and harder to be near him, without acting on the impulse to be with him. Sex had been almost taboo amongst the two of you until this conversation, despite you making it clear your interest.

“Can we keep all this shit to this apartment?” You asked after a moment of silence. Surrendering to him was asking a lot of you, and while you were a little excited to enjoy however many months living the BDSM fantasy, there was a lot of your world you needed to keep yours. For now.

“If that’s how you want it to be, this arrangement can exist when you’re here, but the unbreakable rules will stand where ever either of us is.” His tone was that rare gentleness he used when you were having a “bad day.” When you were screaming or crying and he was calmly pulling you off the figurative ledge. There were a few days it didn’t feel figurative. Days when bad memories were suffocating. Suffocating. That word meant something different now.

“That’s fair,” you said and hesitated before adding, “can you… promise not to choke me?” Once upon a time a tight squeeze on your neck during some rough sex was enough to push you to a messy climax. Every time you even touched your neck now though you could feel it, feel him. Feel your ex choking you during the fight, feel the hands around your neck and the fear you’d already taken your last breath. You remembered knowing what it felt like to be dying, to be murdered. Your eyes burned suddenly and you had to blink a few times as Bi-han’s grip on you tightened.

“I have no desire to do that,” he said and he sounded surprised. It surprised you too, you’d always assumed he was into that sort of thing. Seemed like everyone was these days.

“You always struck me as a “pin ‘em down by the neck and fuck them hard” sort,” you remarked trying to sound snarky, but your voice was hollow, still upset by the memory that invaded this otherwise pleasant moment.

“I am, usually,” he said evenly, and you remembered he had seen you like that. He’d watched someone almost kill you, and for the first time it seemed as though maybe that image had impacted him too. You hadn’t considered that a man like him, who did the sort of things he did could ever be impacted something like that. Maybe it was just because it was you, or maybe he just knew that it would be triggering for you. It was hard not to project your feelings onto a man who was so hard to read.

“Kind sucks when someone else ruins your fun doesn’t it?” You said, failing to keep your voice from cracking. He gave you another squeeze and a kiss.

“Do you need a minute?” He was back in that soft tone, and you almost said yes. You didn’t though, you didn’t because you weren’t going to let this moment be ruined by a dead asshole. He’d gotten to ruin enough. This evening, with the sun finally making it past the horizon was romantic, damn it. Even if it wasn’t conventionally so.

“No,” you said firmly enough that it convinced Bi-han not to press further.

“Lets finish the rules the rules then,” he said relaxing again. He pulled your body back as he leaned further back in the chair so that you were almost laying on top of him.

“Oh there’s more?” You titled your head back so you could see him. He was watching the last lights of day disappear, but he spared more than a few glances your way. It was oddly peaceful, knowing you both were having similar feelings about it.

“I’m not going to give you a long list of rules, and I’m not going to make you ask for permission for basic things. I do want to know when and where you’re going.” He sounded more conversational now, like the serious stuff was over and it was just working out the details now. You found yourself quickly turning to putty in his arms, all the tension finally making its way from your form.

“That’s kind of a relief,” you’d been a little stressed thinking about having a laundry list of expectations to live up to. He wasn’t going to expect you to be anyone else, and that was no small relief.

“You aren’t allowed to fool around with anyone else without permission,” he still sounded casual and that surprised you. You hadn’t even considered sleeping with anyone else a possibility.

“Surprised that’s not an unbreakable,” you remarked the incredulity permeating your voice.

“It’s a stiff penalty but not a deal breaker,” he clarified, and it made you all the more stunned. Cheating had been the only rule breaker you’d had in some of your relationships, which did beg a specific question

“… So what about-“ you tried to ask it, but he beat you to it before you could even finish. He even spoke with such firmness that it convinced you he meant it.

“I won’t be sleeping with anyone else while I’m here, I can consider that a rule for myself if you prefer,” he said and stared at you for your response. You did, you didn’t want to even be asked about it, too many painful memories of not enough. Too many painful memories in general.

“Yes, please,” you said after a long moment, and we’re appreciative when he just nodded in response. He didn’t press it further, didn’t make you explain it. You realized he would do that with anything you found important, and you couldn’t resist giving him another kiss on the cheek.

“Punishments come in a few varieties, most of them will be relatively light, spanking for example, but will occasionally be more intense. These are punishments for general disobedience, and I know they won’t do much to dissuade you. You’ll find punishments for serious infractions, or things I don’t want you to repeat, to be much less pleasant.” His hand was rubbing reassuringly over your shoulder as he spoke, as though to undercut the subject. Your brows raised as high as they could go at the last statement.

“How much so?” You asked, your mind wandering to some of the most dramatic examples of discipline you’d ever found while enjoying some alone time on your computer. He actually let out a small laugh at your expense, and that might have been the first time you heard that particular noise from him. He would chuckle darkly at your grim jokes, but a genuine laugh with a more affectionate mirth was new.

“Nothing as dramatic as you just pictured, you’ll have to write me essays or take time outs, or some other more creative or humiliating punishments. How unpleasant these are will range by how much I don’t want you to do it again.” He clarified and tussled your hair, it made you scrunch your nose at him. When he spotted that look on your face he stole a quick kiss from you.

“I’ve got to give it to you, that sounds highly effective,” you didn’t sound enthusiastic, because you now knew exactly what sort of thing he’d make you do, and you hated it. Though he had made it clear those punishments were only for serious matters, the other ones you could definitely get behind.

“That depends on you,” he said and a brief moment he looked more calm and pleasant than you’d ever seen him, “I’m not going to assume much control to start with, if you enjoy your new normal we can discuss me taking more.” It was as though giving him this control had alone brought comfort to him. It made you wonder what his normal life was like that something like this would be calming for him. Maybe he was just the sort of man that craved it regardless, but there was something about the effortless way he was talking that made you feel like this was something denied to him.

“Are you going to expect me to call you sir,” you asked enjoying the moment with his guard down to ask the teasing question.

“Grandmaster will be fine,” he said it so quick he didn’t even realize it had come out of his mouth. Then he blinked at you, you didn’t get it but it seemed like he’d just accidentally cracked a joke. Not a snarky one at your expense, not something designed to keep people at arms length, just a genuine joke. You weren’t sure though and he seemed to catch it before you did and course corrected immediately.

“I don’t actually care, I’m not interested in superficial displays of dominance, you can if you want to, but my name is fine,” he said it with a small shrug, though he seemed tenser than it had. As though realizing he’d slipped had reminded himself to toughen back up, so to speak.

“So when does this start?” You asked after a moment, deciding not to take the opportunity to tease Bi-han, tempting though it was. You’d almost seen a moment of vulnerability, and that was something you treasured far more than you derided.

“As soon as you pick your safe word,” he said. You furrowed your brow for a moment, thinking of all the ones you’d used in the past but hadn’t meant anything. You debated something snarky, but shouting a goofy thing when you were needing a scary thing to stop didn’t seem appealing. Instead you settled on something meaningful, and hoped he’d understand what you were getting at.

“Snowdrop,” a glum looking flower, but beautiful and it blossomed in the first cold of winter.


	5. The Pleasure of Pain

The word hung in the air for a while, and from the careful expression he was using to regard you, it was clear the implication was not lost on him. His hand ran through your hair pausing to cup the back of your head. His other arm was still looped around your back, he was holding you, cradling you like you’d just become something so very dearly precious to him. For a moment there was pure silence, save for the sounds from the streets below that seemed so far away now. As though the world was slowly leaving until only the two of you remained. Peering into his eyes, intense and yet gentle for you, it wasn’t such a scary notion. It was only a few brief moments, a couple of heart beats and a breath or two, and yet it felt like an hour.

“Say it again,” he said after that eternity in an instant passed. You blinked for a moment, so lost in him that you had to remind yourself what you’d just said.

“Snowdrop,” you said. You didn’t flinch or look away, you leaned into it with him. Leaned into your own surrender, and the responsibility he was taking for it. Leaned into the realization that both your feelings were a lot deeper than either of you would ever admit to the other. That though this was temporary, there was a deep an unshakeable connection that you’d likely carry for the rest of your life.

“Again,” he said, a command. A firm one in fact, perhaps even a little test, or a demonstration. Something about that had your smile growing, you aware of exactly what face you were giving him, that shamelessly adoring gaze that you’d never offered anyone else before.

“Snowdrop,” you repeated. He nodded slowly, never severing that eye contact with you.

“When are you going to say that?” He asked in a tone that carried his new authority. For a moment you debated breaking his gaze so you could lean in for a few more adoring kisses on his cheek, but you knew he wasn’t ready for this moment to pass.

“When I need to,” you said, somehow knowing exactly how he wanted you to answer. His thumb ran over the back of your head gently.

“Good girl,” he responded, and you never knew you could love two words so much. You felt it in your chest, a small amount of pride swelling enough to make you puff up making it completely obvious how pleased with yourself you were. It was silly, and normally your bitter, sarcastic nature prohibited you from enjoying something like this. It made a faint redness creep across your cheeks, a small amount of shame for adoring something you would normally find so very condescending. 

He didn’t let you linger in conflict for long, he pulled you close, still cradling you like the precious thing you were, and claimed your lips for an icy, dominating kiss. A kiss that made it clear you were very much his, and you were more than happy that you were. You’d already given him the control, and so it was easy to let him lead. This wouldn’t last forever, you knew you’d be challenging him to put you in your place very soon, but for a wonderfully sweet moment it was pure pleasure to let him have you.

Your chin was starting to shake from the sheer cold of being completely surrounded by him by the time he parted. You absentmindedly rubbed your hand over your mouth to warm up your lips that were now completely cold to the touch. A shiver ran down your spine as you realized exactly what you’d signed up for. If having his ice cold tongue in your mouth had you trembling, you could only guess it would feel having him inside you in other ways. Strangely that didn’t put you off, but it did make you nervous, and coupled with the icy chill there was this bolt of energy surgery through your limbs that demanded action.

He rested his cheek against yours, leaned in close so he could drop his voice to a whisper, and it was no longer just the cold that had you shivering, “Do you want me to fuck you, my little brat?” His hand left the back of your head to move down your body, touching and grasping with a firm hand down from your neck, chest and side until he could use that powerful grip to take your thigh and make you part your legs for him. You were perhaps a little too eager to let him, especially sitting out on the patio. You were too high up to be seen easily, and the stars were just starting to shine above you. It was a cool evening. And while you’d never have done something like this with anyone else, you trusted Bi-han. It was kind of a strange thought that you were giving sides of yourself to him that you’d likely never give away again. It made this moment something more powerful than you’d anticipated, more thrilling and more meaningful.

“I want you to fuck me,” you whispered out in a surprisingly guttural tone. He wrapped his cold lips around your neck, followed quickly by his teeth. Your head fell back, giving him plenty of room to play with. A small gasp escaped you when you felt that cold grazing you through your underwear, along the slit of your core. His hand had made its way under your dress while you were distracted, and he was so very lightly teasing you. It made you wet enough that your panties were borderline uncomfortable, especially with the gently, cool, and constant touch. It made your cheeks flush knowing he’s be able to feel that reaction from the shameless mess you were now making of your underwear.

“How do you want to be fucked?” He asked, tearing his teeth from your sensitive neck, an act that made you let out a whimper from the sudden pain and pleasure. Your hand reaches for his shoulder, looking for anything to hold onto. Your breath caught in your throat when he gently nudged the cloth out of the way so he could slide his fingers through the flesh, rubbing back and forth a couple times before he stopped at your clit.

“I don’t care,” you finally said, the words were so hard to get out with the distraction of his fingers now pressing against your most sensitive of spots, “I just want you to fuck me, and I want to ache. I want to feel it tomorrow.” You drew in a few shuddering breaths, you could almost feel his smile against your cheek. You needed it, that pain that made everything so intense. The way it cut through the agitation of mounting pleasure to push you over the edge. It always felt like something you just needed, that pleasure and passion just weren’t much without it. There’d been soft sweet loving making in your past, but it always felt lacking. Perhaps you just never loved anyone enough for it to have been meaningful, or maybe to you were just that much of a masochist.

His fingers rubbed against your clit, and that chill against that nub was the most intense feeling you ever had. You couldn’t even keep yourself from shameless grinding against his fingers for more. There was a small chuckle from him as his other hand left your back so he could start shifting your body until you were no longer on his knee, but sitting on his lap properly, his fingers never leaving you all the while. Your back was now against his chest, and you could feel his considerable excitement for you pressing against your rear. Your hand grabbed his wrist, desperate to keep his attention where it was, even if it was almost too much... no. Especially because it was almost too much.

“Don’t stop,” you said sounding as desperate for it as you were. There was that pressure, that growing need for relief from the pleasure. It made your hips rock, something that you shamelessly enjoyed all the more from the feeling of him so hard and eager for you.

“Messy little brat, aren’t you?” He asked, into your ear before he dragged his teeth down your neck and to your shoulder. His free hand reached and tugged down the top of your dress, exposing your bra. He took your breast with an iron grip, fingers locked tight around your nipple, and squeezed hard enough that it made you cry out. And there it was, that little bit of pain you so desperately needed to gain the relief. The force of the climax hit you hard enough, that you tensed completely in his arms. His name was on your lips as you struggled to regain any sort of normalcy in your breathing. He didn’t stop immediately, rather his fingers slowed, used less pressure. He used it to push you through the last bits of your peak, to sustain it for a little longer before easing you off until he could pull his fingers away and they wouldn’t be missed.

You sat there, on his lap, legs splayed way open, your wet core exposed to the cool night air. He was nice enough to adjust your panties back over so you didn’t look completely ridiculous. After a moment, after your shaky breaths of pleasure subsided and you were regaining a sense of self, he scooped you up in his arms to carry you inside.

“We’re not done yet,” he said simply before you could protest. Not that you would have, you’d felt what he had to offer, and were very much thrilled to get it. Your teeth were in danger of chattering from the cold of him by the time he dumped you rather unceremoniously onto the bed. He didn’t wait for you to collect yourself either before he was yanking your clothes off. Your dress went first, a single forceful tug had it over your head and then tossed over his shoulder. Then he shoved you back into the covers so he could get your panties off. It didn’t seem to matter what you did with your legs from the way he was more than fine with manhandling your body to get what he wanted. He didn’t even permit you time to collect yourself before he was pushing you over onto your belly so he could unhook your bra.

“You still want to ache?” He asked, there was something absolutely wicked in his voice, you tilted your head to look around but his fist was in your hair immediately, shoving your face into the covers for a moment before he used the grip on your hair to lift your head to breath and speak. 

“Yes,” you managed out, face flushed and lips parted to draw in panting breaths. You were already feeling the need for him growing again, the need to be invaded and controlled and dominated. He was more than happy to oblige you. He shoved your face back down as he crawled onto the bed, knee on either side of your thighs, using his weight to keep your legs pinned. You felt your heart race, felt that little dangerous excitement growing as he let go of your hair only to secure your wrists in one hand behind your back.

His other hand took free reign to survey his new territory, running along your back, raising the bumps on your skin as he dragged his icy hand along until he had a fistful of your ass. You let out a harsh sounding moan when he gave it a rough squeeze before letting go to strike you there hard enough to make the skin sting red. If you could’ve opened your legs for him, invited him to fuck you, you would have. He still had your legs firmly in place though, so instead you arched your back pushing your rear out and all but begged for more. He grabbed the hot and angry flesh in a rough grip, something that made your toes curl for him.

“Messy, and over eager,” he said coldly, but then leaned over you so he could whisper out, “my favorite things.” His hand left your ass, and you knew from the sounds of clothes rustling he was getting himself out, you expected to feel him shift so he could press against you, he didn’t though. Instead he grabbed your hair to give you another hard tug to force your head back up. It made your back arch awkwardly, especially with your ass still up in the air for him.

For a moment he just paused, and you realized that he was enjoying this image. The image of you with your hands pinned behind your back, hair being pulled hard enough to make you arch, ass red and cunt wet. It was only a moment before he shifted his weight off your legs, and you were able to spread them enough that he could settle himself at your entrance. He didn’t wait, he didn’t let you get used to him, and he wasn’t gentle, not when he slammed himself hard enough into you that you could feel an intense ache where he reached the furthest he could inside of you.

You could’ve came in that moment all over again, he was more than enough to fill you, more than enough to make you feel like you were stretching, more than enough to give you that absolutely delicious pain you craved. Not to mention the pure shock of the sudden cold, it was an experience like no other, what had always felt like the warmest place of you was now taken by a hard iciness, it instantly had your whole body covered in goose bumps, and trembling uncontrollably. All you could do was cry his name, and he clearly loved that sound. It made him drive in all the harder, all the faster, all the deeper. It made him grit his teeth and let out a low moan between pants.

Each new thrust felt like a strike against you, each time it almost knocked the air right out of you. You’d been fucked hard before, but never like this. Never by someone that made you so inescapably horny, and not by someone that seemed to just instinctively know exactly what you needed. Like the over eager mess he made you, you were all too thrilled to match those thrusts as best you could. You almost couldn’t wait to feel the aches in the morning that would inevitably remind you of an amazing night.

If you were a man it would’ve been shameful how easy cumming was for you, but you weren’t and so the fact it didn’t take you long to have your legs shaking, your feet pointing, and your mouth hanging opening in desperate gasps. You cried out in a sound so excited and loud you knew the neighbors heard. Good. Let them hear you. You shook, as the intense waves of sensation crashed over your skin, a strange mix of your heat and his cold made your muscles twitch in the strangest way. You loved it. Loved this high peak, this glorious moment even after it passed. Even after he was still ramming into you, though he did ease off so as not to push you too far in the absence of the pleasure.

He took his time, but didn’t make you wait. He pulled out before he finished, and let himself spill all over your still bright pink rear. It was a strange sensation, the familiar thick stickiness but cold. You were still marveling about it when you felt him leave the bed, you started to roll over, but he stopped you with a hand on your shoulder.

“Not yet, stay still, you’re going to be sore,” he said firmly. Well, you already were. It wasn’t long after your climax that you felt the throb from his assault overtake your lower abdomen. The sudden lack of his presence was almost as painful though, and for a moment you debated disobeying him so you could chase him down and hold him tight. In fact there was a small fear that he was going to make you stay like that, alone until you could more comfortably move. You knew what this was, the sudden emotional drop that came after this sort of intense play. It was more than an emotional one, with your body still struggling to warm itself up. It was a cold loneliness that was unique to the situation.

He didn’t leave you to stew for long though, he came back with a cloth, a bottle of ibuprofen and a glass of water. He wiped you clean of his mess before he helped you roll over so you could take the medication. He then helped you slide under the covers, making sure you were wrapped up tight so you could warm up before he slid in next to you. The blanket barrier was enough to keep him from further dropping your temperature as he pulled you into a comfortable spooning position. You were quick to snuggle your back up against him, wriggling a bit to get cozy as he wrapped an arm around your waist to keep you close. 

Those negative thoughts were already slipping away, replaced by an almost clingy need to stay with him for as long as possible. You went completely still, as though that could convince him to stay longer. You knew you didn’t need to worry, you knew he wasn’t going anywhere. He’d told you he would take care of you, and so far he’d proven he meant it.

“How do you feel?” He asked after a moment of silence passed. He gently ran his hand over your hair, a soft stroke, almost petting you in the most comforting way.

“Like I could stay here forever,” you said, and then added “or at least all night.” It was true, moving was an unpleasant prospect for a lot of reasons, not the least of which would be losing this absolutely wonderful intimacy.

“I can do all night,” he said and you felt him start to settle in comfortably beside you. It made you relax, just about melting against him.

“What about you?” You asked after a moment, tilting your head back to catch a glimpse of him. He furrowed his brow at you.

“What do you mean?” He asked, as you started to roll over to face him. It ached a bit, but that wasn’t enough to keep you from doing it. He tugged you closer as you did, and brushed some hair out of your face so he could look into your eyes.

“How do you feel?” You asked and were struck by how much the question seemed to surprise him. He looked at you, that furrow deepening further before it relaxed. There was something soft behind his eyes, but something was holding it back.

“You don’t have to say anything,” you said. You knew he wasn’t a speaker when it came to these things, he showed, and he had showed you how he felt. Not just by caring for you, but by making sure you were comfortable, and making sure you were able to get your emotional fill of him.

“I feel right, and I feel that’s the only honest thing I can tell you,” he said after taking the time to regard you properly. You couldn’t stop your snarky self from rolling your eyes at him. God you adored him, even when he was being affectionate there was something so dramatic about him. It was positively endearing so you leaned in to kiss his cheek.

“Oh forgive me for prying, I didn’t mean to risk your edgy mysterious aura. Wouldn’t want me to think you’re human, would you?” You said, and even though the words were sarcastic, there was nothing you could do to keep the fondness out of your tone. He grinned at you, that rare honest smile that you’d only managed to catch a few times, but was becoming more regular.

“I’m going to spank you for that later,” He said and returned the kiss with one on your forehead.

“Promise?”


	6. Side Effects

Task wise, this may have been his least favorite mission, for a multitude of reasons, really. Not the least of which was just how many corpses he had to deal with. It may have been a mark of how truly a cold bastard he was, but Bi-han preferred making corpses to dealing with them. This one was requiring quite a bit of transportation and handling of the dead, which was made easier with his ability to freeze the bodies, but was never the less as unpleasant as it sounded.

The other matter was his slow growing realization for what this mission was ultimately going to mean for him and quite a few others within the Lin Kuei. He wasn’t stupid, the only reason to be so dedicated to this unique brand of research was to use it to “improve” the clan members. What he was still figuring out was the extent of which these improvements were intended to be put in place, but the more time he spent guarding and aiding the unpleasant waste of human the scientist was, the more he knew he wasn’t going to enjoy the answer.

If it weren’t for you, as complicated as you were making things, this whole situation would be his least favorite thing he’d ever done. Matters with you were becoming more and less complicated, after all he was standing there staring at the face of your former boyfriend seconds before it was to be cremated and mixed in with the ashes of a father and family man. If he had more morals he’d be offended for the poor fuckers family that he was going to have to spend eternity in an urn with a woman beater. He didn’t care though, it mattered only in so far that it meant that no one was ever going to find your ex again. There was even some grim pleasure he took in knowing the various indignities the corpse had to endure while under the unpleasant care of the scientist. He knew you wouldn’t enjoy that the way he did, even if you deserved that vengeance.

This was why you were complicating things, because even while the situation was on its way to being finished with, you were now invading his thoughts during his mission. He was a man who could compartmentalize almost anything, he could stuff the admittedly limited feelings he felt about his situation and life to the side and deal with what was at hand. Yet, you were the thing that was proving hard to keep from his waking thoughts. He knew the truth was simple, he enjoyed thinking about you, that little flood of dopamine and the image of your face or sound of your voice was keeping him hooked. Not enough that he was suddenly finding it difficult to do his tasks, but enough that he knew he could risk making a bad decision regarding you eventually.

That didn’t change anything though, he’d made a promise that he’d take care of you until he was done here, and he fully intended to keep his word to you. Right now, though, he was dealing with the strange sensation of wanting his least favorite mission ever to last as long as it possibly could. For everyone’s sake he hoped it would be over soon, and he hoped that whatever the Grandmaster had planned for this cybernetic experimentation wouldn’t cost him everything.

\---

Kabal hated having to work these sort of cases. The kind where you have to investigate on behalf of the worse sort of person, the type that no one really cares that they’re gone in the first place. It was hard to picture anyone shedding a tear for a man with more arrests for beating up on girlfriends and being drunk and belligerent in public than he had hairs on his head. He was the sort of just successful enough that he could get away with it, but not enough that people were actively covering for him. Only his boss, seemed to have anything nice to say. That fit the sort though, kissed up to the people above him while stomping on the people below. It became clear that he was a man with an “uncontrollable” rage that never seemed to be a problem around his superiors or clients.

Still though, he had to investigate, even for assholes. He had just stopped coming into work and couldn’t be contacted in anyway. His credit cards weren’t being used, and there were no massive recent withdrawals. If he did just up and leave he did so quickly and in a panic. So he started where it made the most sense, he headed over to the potential victims home. Not before he did his due diligence on who he was dealing with though.

He’d combed through all the police reports, saw all the pictures and read all the interviews and descriptions. He’d tried calling the number they had for you, but no answer. The concern was present from this being a single missing persons case to something along the line of a murder-suicide. However, that was pure conjecture until he had more information. When knocking on your door produced nothing, he immediately moved onto the neighbors. It was honestly no small relief when you opened the door, though it took a second to recognize you. The pictures he’d seen were not you at your best.

“Lucky me, just the person I was looking for,” he said with a half smile, not that he’d ever voice this outloud but he’d much rather you be the murderer than the victim. Nor did he automatically assume you were responsible for it, after all this man was liked by so very few. Still statistics weren’t in your favor, but you had enough evidence and reports that someone in your case could probably plead down to a much lesser charge, even if it was premeditated. At least that was true in this county, other places wouldn’t be so kind.

“What the fuck?” You looked surprised, and it hit him just how weird that was for a stranger to exclaim excitedly, especially because he was in plainclothes. So he put on his best, charming and apologetic smile.

“Yeah, sorry,” he said as he started rifling through his pockets, “didn’t mean that to sound as creepy as it did.” It didn’t take him long before he had his badge out, which he held up for you to see. Not the quick flash of the movies, he wanted to make sure you saw who he was. Your jaw clenched a little, brows furrowed, definitely a reaction but not one that meant anything meaningful.

“I saw your picture in some files I pulled for a case I’m working on. Got a few minutes to talk?” He asked still smiling, and avoiding the cop tone.

“This isn’t my apartment, and the renter isn’t home, so it would be rude for me to invite you in,” you said it with a sarcastic hint of malice and he was surprised you didn’t just slam the door. From the way you held onto the corner, it was clear you debated it. The uncertain nibble on your lip told him you were torn about how to handle this. So he kept with the calm casual voice and hoped that would encourage you to talk a little more.

“That’s fine, we can go back to your place, that’s it isn’t it?” He asked and pointed at the next door over. You leaned out the door and looked, and he could tell from your expression you didn’t want to be in there. Which meant he really needed to see what was in there.

“I was hoping you’d let me look around anyway, so we can kill two birds with one stone, and then I can be out of your hair,” he put a little more pressure in his tone, and hoped the suggestion of him being gone soon would encourage you to comply. To his surprise it did.

“Okay, fine,” you said, and ducked back into the apartment to grab your keys. While you walked over to the apartment, you both properly introduced yourselves, and he explained exactly what he was doing there. Not that you needed him to say it, it was obvious you knew who he was looking for.

You held the door open for him, something he wouldn’t usually accept. Normally he’d make it a point to hold the door for others, but the way you looked into the apartment told him this was not a gesture of courtesy. No, you really didn’t want to be in there. So he went in first, and watched you from the corner of his eye linger outside the door for a brief moment before coming in. After he got the relevant permission to start looking he made it a point to avoid staring at you too hard while he looked around. It was a little dusty in spots, but otherwise clean, like you hadn’t been there in a while.

“Can you tell me about the last time you saw him?” He asked as casually as he asked everything else, while he glanced around for anything that seemed out of the ordinary. This was far from a full sweep, he’d have been here with a warrant and more officers if that were the case.

“It was maybe a month ago, I guess. We had a fight.” Your arms were crossed over your chest, and you were rubbing your shoulders like you were trying to comfort yourself, and he realized he might have misunderstood your apprehension over being here.

“Was it-“

“Violent?” You cut him off with a dry tone, but a pained look in your eyes.

“Like I said I saw you pictures from the file,” the second the words left him, he regretted it. That look on your face, like something deeply personal had just been violated. It must have been a special kind of terrible knowing there were strangers who had seen you that way, in the worst moments of your life.

“Yes it was,” you said a lot more quietly, so he shifted his tone to something much gentler as well.

“Why didn’t you call it in?” He asked and straightened up so he could address you directly. You let out a cynical scoff, with an eye roll so high he knew you were using it to keep back a few tears.

“So that he could make bail the next day, come home and be twice as mad? Been there, done that.” The frustration in your voice spoke to a helplessness. He really hated these sorts of cases, not just because the victim most definitely deserved what he got(whatever that was), but because there were a lot of people that got left in the wake that he just didn’t have the ability to help.

“You know there are-“

“Yes I know about the hotlines, the crisis centers, the restraining orders, and shelters and blah, blah, blah,” again you cut him off, you sounded so bitter and angry that he knew better than to push it further. But then something flashed in your eyes, a little bit of an apologetic expression before you pulled cigarettes and a lighter out of your purse. You stared at him with those eyes for a moment before lighting one up, and even though you didn’t verbally offer it, he did accept your apology for snapping.

“Didn’t think there were many apartments that let people smoke in them anymore,” he said, choosing not to acknowledge the awkwardness and letting the unpleasant moment pass.

“Oh it’s not allowed, but my landlord is going to try to keep my deposit anyway, so...” you shrugged and puffed on your cigarette for emphasis. Then flicked off the ash on the carpet, a little act of disrespect for a lot of things, he figured. He remained quiet for a few moments, a little breather during a difficult discussion before he got back to business.

“So you two were fighting, what about?” He asked and went back to his fruitless search, he was even pawing through some old mail on the counter for anything overdue to indicate he may have had a reason to leave on his own accord.

“He was jealous, I’d been hanging out with a neighbor a lot, we were friendly,” he stopped looking through the mail long enough to shoot you a little look.

“The one whose apartment you were in?” He asked using a neutral tone.

“The very same,” you said, and then immediately realized you should clarify, “I wasn’t cheating. Kinda wish I had been, to be honest. Is that incriminating?” You said it like you were teasing him. He wasn’t sure he entirely believed you, and it definitely put another player on the field he wasn’t originally aware of.

“So what happened then?” He tossed the envelopes back down and leaned against the counter to watch you for your responses

“I told him to leave and he wouldn’t, so I left. Went to the neighbor’s, half because he’s a big strong scary looking guy, half because I knew it would piss him off. We grabbed a couple of drinks so I could calm down, and when I came he was gone. Haven’t seen or heard from him since.” Well, now you had a convenient alibi with another possible suspect should this turn into a murder investigation.

“You didn’t think to report him missing?” He asked point blank, letting how suspicious that was clearly seep into his voice. You blinked for a moment, looked at the ground and took a shaky breath.

“I’ve honestly just been trying not to panic thinking about what’s going to happen when he comes back, even being in this apartment is fucking my brain up,” you said quiet once more. His brow furrowed, it was a good explanation, and you were clearly upset here.

“It’s... like I’m staring at a museum dedicated to my fucked up life. Like none of this stuff is really mine, it’s all just replicas. The attachments gone, but I’m just so bitter about it. Almost like one of those out of body experiences.” You were no longer talking to him, not to anyone really. You had a distant look on your face, it made him uncomfortable. You had left something out of the story, something that made it much worse than he’d pictured, but he wasn’t going to get it out of you when you were about to disassociate.

“Do you want to wait outside while I finish up? I won’t be long.” He rubbed his brow, this was going to be a pain in the ass to follow up on. There was nothing suspicious enough here to get a warrant and tear the place apart, and you’d given him nothing but more questions.

“Thank you,” you said, and it sounded like you meant it. Even though he was pretty certain that there was nothing to see, he never the less crossed the t’s and dotted the i’s thoroughly before he left the apartment himself. As predicted, nothing of note, nothing suspicious, nothing out of place enough to cause concern. Of course, you said something violent had happened here, and there was no indication at all of that. Frustrating. It was frustrating.

When he exited to the hall outside your room, he found you there with who he could only assume was the neighbor. When you’d described him as a big, strong, scary looking guy, that was not what he’d pictured. He was expecting tattoos, or a meathead looking guy, the kinda guy that made suburban moms cross the streets. This man was something else entirely, something that made his instincts flash with warning. Not his cop instincts, the ones from his Black Dragon days. He was intense and the air around him felt cold, as cold as the look he sent Kabal when he approached. In that moment Kabal knew they were never going to find the victim. He didn’t know if you were involved, but he was positive you weren’t guilty of murder. The man however, probably had more than a few of those under his belt, and he would bet a lot of money they’d never find any trace of your ex.

“Are you just about done here?” He asked his voice remarkably free of any emotion. He didn’t sound agitated by Kabal’s presence here. He likely had no reason to, especially with how thoroughly he’d removed any trace of conflict from your apartment. His hand was on your back, though if he was comforting you or making a clear mark of territory was unclear.

“Yeah, I think I can cross this off my list for now,” Kabal said pleasantly, though he didn’t particularly care for this turn of events.

“Good, I need a drink,” you said and took a long inhale from a brand new cigarette you were working on. He didn’t know exactly what the relationship was between the two of you, if this man was a danger to you or just to other people, but Kabal could see a potential future disaster.

“Careful with that,” he said gesturing to the cigarette, “you don’t want to trade one bad habit for another.” He said it playfully enough, but made it a point to look at your “friend”. The growing frown on your face meant you had at least caught his implication. He started to walk away but made a little show of turning around and pulling out his card.

“Oh and, if you think of anything, or hear from him,” he said and deliberately made eye contact with you, “or need any help, you can call me directly.” He offered you the card, and you took it with reluctant fingers. You stared at it for a moment, and he had to hope you intended to keep it on the off hand chance his dark prediction came true.

“Have a good day, officer,” the man said still sounding unmoved by any of this. He shifted his arm around your shoulder you to guide you back to his home. Kabal didn’t feel especially good about watching you leave.


End file.
